


Sorry

by Dreamin



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Aliens, F/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-26 23:00:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16690585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamin/pseuds/Dreamin
Summary: Molly's father always warned her to never pick up hitchhikers. He didn't say anything about aliens.





	Sorry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afteriwake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/gifts).



> Inspired by a prompt from afteriwake -- "Sorry, were you sleeping?"
> 
> This bounces back and forth between two timelines -- "now" and "one week ago." Dividing lines separate the two.
> 
> There's a small reference to my favorite anime, Black Butler. What can I say, I have a thing for sexy Sebastians.

“Sorry, were you sleeping?” He stood in her bedroom doorway, silhouetted by the hall light.

“That’s what people normally do in bed. By themselves. With the lights off.” She didn’t mean to be rude but really, he was the one interrupting her rest. _Why did I think this was a good idea?_

* * *

One week earlier, she was driving home from a pathology conference. It was late, late enough that she probably should’ve stayed in the hotel one extra night but she wanted to get home to her cat.

The car had just crested a hill when something big and bright came streaking through the night sky and hit a tree just yards from her. Molly immediately hit the brakes. The large oak tree had caught fire but what really had her attention was what had slammed into it.

A spaceship.

An honest-to-God spaceship.

Unable to believe what she was seeing, she let her instincts take over. A ship, alien or not, meant a pilot, and after a crash like that, the pilot was likely hurt. Her expertise was the dead but she was still a doctor. Grabbing the bag she kept stashed in the car for emergencies, she cautiously approached the ship. It reminded her of one of those fancy stealth planes she saw at an airshow once, but this ship was silver instead of black.

Initially worried that whatever fuel the ship ran on would catch fire, that worry died when the hatch slowly opened. A man stumbled out. He was tall and muscular, with ginger hair and matching stubble, and no clothes whatsoever. The man looked at her with wild, slate blue eyes then those eyes rolled back in his head as he passed out.

Molly’s first thought was, _How in the bloody hell am I going to get him in the car?_

* * *

“I need your help. The feline won’t get off the bed.”

“For an intergalactic mercenary, you’re awfully non-confrontational,” she muttered. “Just pick him up and move him.” _And let me go back to sleep._

“I tried. He has more innate weaponry than I do.”

“Seb…” She let out a frustrated groan then got out of bed, ignoring the way he looked at her bare legs. “Take my bed, I’ll sleep in the guestroom.”

“That’s … not what I wanted.” His gaze switched to her breasts under her thin sleep shirt.

Molly pulled her dressing gown on and he finally met her eyes. “It’s almost three in the morning and I have to be up in three hours. I don’t give a rat’s ass what you want right now, Sebastian. All I want is-”

Her words were cut off by a pair of soft lips on hers.

* * *

Against her better judgment, she called Sherlock after the alien passed out. He and John broke the speed limit quite a few times getting to her. After assessing the situation, Sherlock reluctantly called Mycroft, who eagerly sent men from Baskerville to collect the spaceship. Sherlock didn’t tell his brother about the alien, just the ship.

“We can’t have those scientists dissecting him before we’ve talked to him,” he said, grinning at her. They had the alien wrapped in a blanket burrito and stuffed in the back of Sherlock’s hired Land Rover just as Mycroft’s men arrived.

After some debate about where to put him, they decided that Molly’s house would be the best place. The alien was just coming to when they pulled into the driveway. He struggled against Sherlock and John’s efforts to get him into the house, proving to be stronger than both of them together, even in his disoriented state. Molly knew she had to step in. As soon as her hand touched his arm, he stared at her and stopped struggling.

* * *

She pulled back first, needing to breathe. His gaze was intense, so intense that she had to look away. Her eyes lowered to the hollow of his throat. “What … what was that?”

“Unless I’m mistaken,” he murmured with a smile in his voice, “that was a kiss.”

His strong arms were around her and she wanted nothing more than to let him pull her closer but she knew it wasn’t the right time. Reluctantly, she pulled out of the circle of his arms. “We need to talk about this, Seb.”

“Why waste time talking when we could use our mouths much more enjoyably?” He ducked his head to kiss her again but she put her hands on his t-shirt-clad chest and pushed him. He was so solid that it was more like pushing **at** him – he didn’t move but he did get the hint. Taking a step back, he asked, “What do you want me to say?”

“Well, first … did you kiss me because you’re bored?”

Seb murmured, “I would think you’d know me better than that.”

* * *

After a quick shopping trip, the alien had enough clothes and other necessities to pass for human. What he didn’t have was a name.

“It’s unpronounceable by humans,” he said. The four of them were in Molly’s sitting room.

“And yet you have no problems speaking English,” Sherlock pointed out.

John was too busy trying to make sense of the alien’s vital signs to contribute. “Your temperature is way too high. You should be delirious with fever.”

“I assure you, Dr. Watson, I’m fine – I only look human. All your knowledge of human ‘normal’ doesn’t apply to me.”

“Why do you look human?” Molly asked. “And how can you speak English so well?”

“I’m from a race of morphs – we can replicate any race. As for your language, I’ve been observing humans for a while now.”

“Are you a scientist or something?”

“I’m a merc. I got bored with the rest of the warlords out there, I thought I’d give Terra’s a try.”

“Tara who?” John asked, confused.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Terra, as in the Latin name for Earth.”

“Oh, right. I knew that.”

“But what should we call you?” Molly asked.

The alien grinned at her. “Why don’t you pick a name for me?”

* * *

“Sebastian...”

“I kissed you because I’m attracted to you. You’re a beautiful, brave, and intelligent woman and I want to give you all the pleasure you’ve been missing.”

She blushed. “I … I’m not missing anything.” At his grin, she added, “Except sleep. I need to sleep, I work in the morning.”

“Fair enough.” He softly kissed her cheek. “We’ll continue this when we have more time. I want to take it slow.”

“So do I … but I don’t think we mean in the same way.”

Seb grinned. “Then we’ll work on a mutually-agreeable definition tomorrow.”

* * *

“What does it mean?”

Molly read aloud from her borrowed baby names book. “‘From Sebastia, an ancient city.’”

He raised an eyebrow. “And you want to call me that why?”

John muttered, “Please tell me it has nothing to do with the crab. Somebody recommended I show Rosie _The Little Mermaid_ and now it’s the only thing she wants to watch.”

Molly let out a nervous giggle as she felt her cheeks warm. “Um, actually, it’s also the name of a character from my favorite anime.” She looked over at the alien, who looked interested. “He, um, he’s a demon, not an alien, but he’s deadly, like you.” _And dead sexy, like you._

He grinned. “Then I accept.”

* * *

She was just leaving work the next morning, trying hard not to think of Sebastian’s kiss (a task she had been failing at all day), when her mobile chirped.

**Mycroft knows about Seb. Not everything, but enough that we need to get him out of London. SH**

_Shit…_

**I’m on my way home. Molly**

**John and I will get there faster. Go to Heathrow, I’m buying you both tickets to the States. SH**

She stared at her phone. _He’s serious? Oh, what am I saying? Of course he’s serious._

**I don’t have a bag packed. Or my passport. Molly**

**Leave them to me. SH**


End file.
